


Occam's Razor

by devaway



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Crime, Detective AU, F/M, Gen, Gilded Age type setting, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Murder, Steampunk AU, Young Ruben, for some reason i thought this would fit, romance takes a back seat, ruben is a troubled child, seb is an old timey detective, servants and masters, this is like a steampunk noir film, this will be plot heavy, what am I doing with my life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 15:06:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13010361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devaway/pseuds/devaway
Summary: Ruben Victoriano wants nothing other than to be left alone. He much prefers theories and research to people, except for his beloved sister Laura. But even Laura isn't a perfect companion--she's better than him, smarter, more cunning, and she's given him a challenge that might best him: Ruben has to make a friend, one handpicked by Laura and their father. The easiest way to put it is that Rubendoesn't want to.But losing Laura's game isn't an option.This is a steampunk/American Gilded Age AU with noir elements and murder mysteries involving our favorite characters.





	Occam's Razor

Laura had fallen from a bookshelf ladder, and that was why Ruben Victoriano could not sleep. Both his sister and mother had charged him with being overprotective; they did not know the half of it. Each time he closed his eyes he just saw Laura falling, falling, and each time her descent was deeper and more treacherous, the yawning cavern walls stuck with spikes, with smoldering crosses, and fire licked at the edges of Ruben’s dream vision. The first time he tried to fall asleep he woke up in a cold sweat, his covers drenched, and felt a tugging at his stomach. He barely managed to nick the chamber pot under his bed in time to catch the remains of his meager dinner. And for a while after that he knelt, his knees digging into the hard coolness of the floor, and tried to push the visions from his mind lest they rise up again and plague him like… other things so often did.

With a sigh and shaking legs Ruben stored the chamber pot and crawled back into bed. This time he kept the covers off and busied himself by not allowing his body to tremble and show weakness in the chill of the spring night. That required concentration and could be equated to meditation but without the spiritual component. He did not need that, the guilt, the shame, burrowing into him this late at night and this alone. Even sneaking in with Laura was out of the question, with her bruised from the accident and needing of rest. No, Ruben knew this night he would spend in solitude without his sister’s calming presence and reassuring voice. The knowledge of his situation did not ease his emotions in the least, and he stared at the ceiling and tried not to think til the first light of dawn peeked around the corners of his curtains and he knew he was free of the heavy darkness and all that it wrought.

Sitting up, Ruben glanced at his nightclothes. They were stiff from the sweat of his nightmares, and he peeled the shirt off without second thought. He stood and stretched, deciding to leave the covers turned down. He threw the soiled shirt in with the sheets; the servants would deal with that, later. He also nudged the chamberpot into view with his foot, hoping the maids would not be so daft as to overlook that it needed to be emptied. Ruben did not mind doing it himself. In fact, he did not mind doing any of the “domestic” work himself because no one ever completed his instructions to his liking. It was far easier to get his own hands dirty than chastise someone and explain what they did wrong, especially because his explanations always seemed to go over all of their heads. Just thinking about it made him tired.

When interacting with people, Ruben was the opposite of Laura and her kind ways. She spoke softly with the servants, never demanding, never scolding. No one would want to disappoint her and so they did her bidding in a timely, effective fashion. Ruben tried to emulate that care, but it always fell short. Most all of those in his father’s employ were heavy-footed, dull people who needed as much prodding as a mule to complete their work. He knew well why his father preferred them, but to Ruben, their very presence was excruciating. They lived their lives in a haze of mediocrity and rough pleasure and cared nothing for the finer truths Ruben yearned for. He found it hard to see them as  _ people. _ They were more like cattle. Often he wondered what it would be like to confront them with the stupidity of their ways; it could be beneficial, yes, but the more tasteful outcome--the one Ruben imagined--was fear. He could show them things their small minds could not comprehend and watch as they writhed in pain attempting to untangle the mass of truth which he had thrown before them. It would be satisfying, sating, to watch their eyes glaze over with terror, to observe and record their screams. Ruben dreamed of it frequently, and being so caught up in his imaginings he quite often forgot that the faces in his visions were anything more than fodder to get him where he needed to be.

Ruben snapped out of his thoughts to find his hands clenched at his sides and his breaths heavy, ragged. He blinked and shook his head. He walked toward his dresser and retrieved his day’s attire. He dressed himself, though he knew mother would scold him, citing her evidence for her anger as:  _ that’s what we have servants for, dear. That’s why we  _ pay _ them. _ Ruben heard her protestations in his mind and chuckled at the needlessness of it all.

He hated his family, all of them but Laura, because they saw their privilege as not having to excite themselves over  _ anything _ , as if by birth they had the right to turn a blind eye to the world and its cruelties. Up here, they believed, the darkness could not touch them. Ruben smirked. How they would tremble when they knew he made that descent quite often, that journey into the bleakness of the gritty and real world that festered in the alcoves of the city. Krimson was named for the red minerals that stained the ground in its mining days, but now, it was obvious the name dripped blood from legal and illegal murder alike. And how would his father react, Ruben wondered, if over breakfast he admitted to searching for the city’s newest demon, only out of the wish to talk with him, only to find out how he worked?

There was a knock on his door and Ruben glanced up from his boots. He finished tugging them on before moving to the door, steps calculated and quiet. He paused before it, guessing at who came to fetch him this time. It was a game, and Ruben was quite good at it. He listened for breathing but heard nothing, so he ruled out most of the servants. There was no awkward shifting of weight, no creaking of the hallway floor, so Ruben narrowed the size again. Patient, he waited for something distinct, knowing his effort would pay off. He caught the faint scent of Laura’s favorite perfume, carried by the wind, past the cracks around the door. It was not her, he knew; Laura was resting. That left one person: her maid.

Ruben opened the door and nodded at the woman before him.

“Good morning, Master Ruben.” 

“Good morning, Tatiana.”

With a small tilt of her head, Tatiana regarded his room. Ruben knew she saw the rumpled sheets of his bed.

“Shall I tell someone to change your sheets, sir?”

“Yes.” Ruben smiled, if only a little. Tatiana was different. He did not lump her in with the other servants, and rightfully so. She was intelligent, witty, and if she had the opportunity, Ruben knew she would be dangerous to his endeavors. So he walked carefully around her, admired and loathed her in the same moment for the same reasons. But Tatiana was better than the others, and so Ruben could say, without guilt, that he liked her. Because she challenged him where no one else did.

“Laura has requested you see her before breakfast, sir.” Tatiana decreed. Ruben’s head snapped up at the mention of his sister.

“Is she alright?”

“She is recovering nicely from yesterday’s episode.” Tatiana explained, her voice melodic, hypnotizing with the good news. Ruben let out a breath. “But she told me to tell you to go at once, that she has important news for you.”

Ruben brushed past the maid, who was quick enough to move from his path. He felt her eyes on him as he traveled down the hall, perhaps out of spite for his wordless exit, but he paid her no heed. Ruben’s mind spun with the revelation Laura would soon tell him, though, after last night, Ruben couldn't care less whether Laura’s words held importance. After dreaming of her suffering, it would be enough just to hear her say his name in a voice not choked from smoke or strained from screaming. It would be enough to see her alive.

The door to Laura’s room was ajar and light spilled out into the darker hallway. The curtains were still tight over the grand windows, and Laura’s room was a haven in a dark world. Ruben knocked lightly before peering around the dark wood. Laura was propped up with pillows, brushing her hair. The windows on both sides of her bed were open and they let in the fresh morning breeze. The pearl curtains swirled, shimmering in the dawn. The wind stirred her dark locks and sent them floating before her pale face. When she saw Ruben, she smiled, her lips parting in a tired joy, even with dark half moons tinting the skin under her eyes. She set the brush aside and beckoned him nearer. Ruben obeyed.

“How are you, Ruben? You look tired.”

“I… didn’t sleep well last night. Please don’t worry about it.” Ruben dismissed, melting under the warmth of Laura’s presence. She patted the space beside her and he sat, careful not to shift her, careful not to cause her pain.

“I always worry, little brother.” Laura assured, laughing. The sound brightened the room even more, lifted Ruben’s spirits. It was a twinkling, a thousand stars calling out through the night to bathe him in love and light.

“Don’t worry about me, Laura.” Ruben pleaded, leaning closer to her. “I don’t ever want to burden you with my… inclinations.” That last word Ruben whispered. He looked down, aching to grasp his sister’s hand in his own, an assurance that she was still there. She understood--she was the only one who did--yet Ruben felt guilty confiding in her. She never turned him away nor would she ever, but the ideas that grasped and clawed at his head surely caused her pain equal to his. He could not bear the thought that she might lay awake in fear because of the whisperings of his mind or tense in the darkness, or long to feel the splitting of flesh and rending of mental understanding ushered to her by the words which found him in curiosity, in desire--

“Oh, no. Don’t say that, Ruben. I want to worry! It’s how I show my love!” Laura assured. She lifted her hand from the bed and cupped his cheek, drawing his eyes back up to meet hers. Her smile was smaller, but the glint in her eyes was conspiratory, the curve of her lips mischievous. She knew what the was thinking.

“I don’t want to be a bother.” Ruben clarified, just to get the self-loathing out of his system early in the day.

“You never are. I love you, and you know that.” Laura patted his cheek. Ruben leaned into the contact, biting his lip at the sensation of her nails on his skin. He wished she would be a little more forceful, just enough to leave a little mark, not enough to draw blood. He would like to see it in the mirror, the design of her love to remind him he had worth, he had a purpose. But all too soon it was over. Laura withdrew her touch and folded both hands in her lap.

“Tatiana said you have something to tell me.” Ruben murmured, dropping her gaze once more. 

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” Laura hummed, surprised at how quickly Ruben had jumped to her own safety. “Oh yes, I’m fine. Just a little sore from my fall, if that’s what you mean. No, Ruben, I have some good news for you.”

“Good news?” Ruben echoed, arching his brows and trying not to scoff.

“It’s not exactly a gift, but I fought to get you something I think you’ve been without for too long.”

Ruben looked up, brows knit together. Laura had her shoulders hunched, her smile playful. She twisted a strand of midnight hair around her finger and let it spiral out. She watched him, and Ruben felt heat rise to his face.

“Tatiana is very dear to me.” Laura began. “I do consider her a friend, though you may just write that off as feminine foolishness. Father does.”

“Father doesn’t know you.” Ruben retorted, the instinct to protect the one person he loved overwhelming. It did not matter that there was no attack; their father was most likely not even awake yet.

“I only bring it up because he argued you would have no use for someone like Tatiana. I think differently, as you can obviously tell.” Laura leaned forward and grasped her brother’s hand. “You’re a remarkable person, Ruben. Your talents are unparalleled. And as much as you attest you are cold and heartless, I see it. You have the capacity to love. And so I think you should practice, start out small first. If you must, think of it as an experiment.”

Ruben’s eyes had widened at each word Laura had uttered. Now, he stared at her in shock, maybe in partial horror if he could admit it, lost as to what she planned.

“I don’t follow. What did you get me?”

“A servant.” Laura giggled. “And not just any servant. I had father make sure he was intelligent and cunning. I can’t have my dear little brother being bored, now can I?”

Laura squeezed his hand but Ruben only stared.

“You… but Laura, I can’t have someone in my way. I can’t… it’s dangerous, not only for me, but for the family, for our reputation!”

“Since when have you cared about the family’s name?”

“I don’t  _ care _ for it, but it’s a protection. While not untouchable, being a Victoriano puts me out of sight. And you, too. All of us.” Ruben grimaced at his own words. He loathed the stature of his family, but he would use it to his own ends. Laura rolled her eyes. When she spoke, her voice fell, became deeper, and Ruben swallowed.

“I’m not stupid, little brother. I know the dangers of your science. I know the danger it presents to our family. And though you think Father turns a blind eye, he understands this as well. We were very thorough, Ruben.” Chastisement spoken, Laura’s expression changed, the dark storm clouds which had temporarily obscured her features blowing away. She smiled again, her happiness almost reckless, but as she had attested, not quite. “Trust me.”

“I’ll always trust you, Laura.” Ruben promised. Laura interlaced their fingers and gave Ruben’s hand another squeeze. 

“He arrives today. That is the good news.”

Ruben nodded, attempting to keep the maelstrom of his mind at bay. This man, whoever he was, had been handpicked by his sister--his father, too, though he put less emphasis on that--to aid him. No, more than that, even. He had been picked to be Ruben’s… friend. The thought was foreign, alien to his concept of life, his creed which had been crafted out of his solitude and desperation to keep his darkness caged. He could observe it there, safe in the confines of his own mind. It was not meant to touch anyone else.

Eyes flicking up to Laura, Ruben fought the lump that rose in his throat. He had always  _ had _ to tell her. She drew the thoughts from him like the tide, a force of nature. All Laura had to do was glance at him and he would confess everything; he would spill this disease of the mind at her feet, and while he busied himself sorting through the whims and wonders Laura would observe with her smile light and touches airy. She never made him feel like less.

“Think of it as an experiment.” She said again. Ruben found himself nodding, though her idea did little to ease him of his anxiety.

“Yes, I can do that.”

“Wonderful.”

Laura pulled her hand back, and Ruben let her go. She sighed and leaned back into the pillows, closing her eyes. 

“Go down and have breakfast. Your servant is set to arrive by evening.”

“I’d rather stay and eat with you, Laura.”

“No.” His sister’s answer was final, and Ruben flinched at the force behind her voice. “You need to show Father you deserve this. Being locked in you room or in your  _ study _ does nothing to assure him you are competent enough to handle this responsibility.”

“O-of course.”

Laura opened one eye, her gaze fond behind her tired expression.

“I know you are responsible, Ruben. But you must show _ them _ . No one gets to see the side of you that I do.”

Ruben nodded, dropping his sister’s gaze. He stood from the bed, each movement reluctant. What he wouldn’t give to lay beside her and waste the day, talking, sharing ideas and dreams. But that day was not today. Perhaps in the future, when Laura felt better, and Ruben had something interesting enough to talk about. As he turned, her voice floated to him on the gentle air scented with the first flowers of spring.

“Before you go, hand me my brush, will you? You interrupted me, after all.”

Laura’s grin was sweet as Ruben did as he was told. When he bent down to hand it to her, she placed a kiss on his cheek. He felt his skin burn at the contact. 

Ruben nodded and backed away. He ran when he was in the hall, and he heard his sister’s tinkling laugh spill from the room behind him. He ran back to his own room and shut the door, locking it from habit. He glanced to his bed. The sheets had been replaced and the comforter drawn, the pillows arranged like he never bothered to do. Ruben fell face first onto the clean blankets, fighting a headache that threatened behind his eyes. 

What was he to do? He did not want a servant--he certainly did not want a friend. Despite Laura’s assurances, Ruben could not see the benefit of making himself so vulnerable. His mind was precious--even so, it was fragile. He had to admit that. He needed to recognize his breaking point so that he did not walk past it in his fervor to acquire knowledge. Everything would be useless to him if he went too far.

Ruben groaned into the red of his comforter. It was red like Laura’s favorite dress, red like her lips and the color of blood. Why hadn’t she consulted him on this? Ruben knew. She wanted to challenge him. This was one of her little games. Laura loved to play with people, though most were blind to the fact. They saw her beauty and her grace, but like Ruben, Laura had a wolf snarling beneath the surface of her skin. And it seemed only wolves could recognize each other. That was why Ruben hated telling her his thoughts, out of fear that he could push her too far. And yet… was this not too far on her part? Ruben fisted the velvety cloth of his bed. Forcing him into this was an obvious overstep of the rules they had set for themselves. She had dragged him into this without his consent, even consulting with their father, their  _ father _ , to get her way. Part of Ruben admired her cunning, while the other part of him wanted to scream.

Sighing, Ruben rolled to his back. He rubbed his eyes until he saw spots. The lower levels of the house were waking up now. Or at least, his parents were awake. With the master and mistress of the house up, the servants could make noise. The bustling Ruben heard was undoubtedly the rush to ready the dining room for breakfast. But he did not have to go down, not yet.

His eyes slid to his desk across the room. He should work to ease the static of his thoughts. Effort calmed him, it always did. Yet he remained on the bed, running his fingers over the embroidery on the pillows. It was garish, useless, but he stared at the patterns and tried to formulate a reason for their placement. He did so until a sharp knock on his door roused him from his daydreams. 

“Breakfast is served.” Came the announcement. It was not Tatiana, and Ruben did not bother to answer. The nameless person did not bother to stay. Ruben huffed and sat up, glancing out the window before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and exiting his room. He paused at the stairs and frowned at the chatter that rose up to greet him.

He didn’t even want to do this. If he did not go down, perhaps his father would call the whole thing off. He could fake his own irresponsibility and save himself needless struggle in the future... It would come at the cost of losing Laura’s challenge. 

Ruben did not want to lose. He frowned as he descended the stairs but forced himself to smile as he entered the dining room. The maids and servers were shocked to see him. His mother beamed as he took his seat, doting on his appearance and reaching out to comb his hair with her fingers. He gave her the appropriate attention, smiling when needed, talking when addressed. At the head of the table, his father watched him. Ruben felt his gaze heavy on his shoulders. Only one time did Ruben meet his gaze. They regarded one another coldly, but beyond his father’s stern glower, Ruben spied approval. He looked away after that.

If it was an experiment, he would learn all he could.

If this was a game, Ruben would win.

**Author's Note:**

> I was laying in bed and came up with this so blame my sleep deprived brain. I just really needed to write something with Ruvik because he's my favorite character. And for those of you following House of Memories, I've kind of gotten writer's block so here's for your troubles, dearies. And I finished my finals! So I'm celebrating a month of video games and writing.


End file.
